5 The Drop and Destruction

As the ping on Rhok's map grew closer, the dark, ominous garrison emerged from the distance, its towering structures clawing at the sky. He could feel the air crackle with arcane energy, could almost smell the magic on the wind.

"Full offence!" Rhok commanded. He signalled to Daniel, who began preparations as Rhok readied the heavy artillery on his own Armatus.

Hovering above the enemy's defence towers, the Armatus suits deployed their missile pods. With a flick of a finger, the nozzles erupted. Hundreds of high-explosive missiles streaked toward their targets, a devastating display of firepower that obliterated the enemy's defences and wiped the base from the landscape.

The microbombs detonated simultaneously, their explosions echoing from the distance, but Rhok noticed something strange.

The blasts occurred, but no damage was visible on the buildings.

"An arcane barrier?" Daniel suggested, his voice a mix of awe and concern.

"Tsk!" Rhok clicked his tongue in frustration. He'd thought this would be an easy task, but now he would need to descend to ground level and rampage.

"Shall we get down, Commander Wagner?" Daniel asked, his tone hardening.

"Aye. Let's," Rhok answered, his eyes burning with vengeance.

Ten Armatus suits, six of Rhok's and four of Daniel's, descended upon the garrison. Their ionised blades glowed a fierce red as they sliced through the massive arcane barrier. The shield crackled erratically, sparks flying as it resisted the onslaught.

With a final, furious surge, a section of the arcane shield shattered, leaving a gap large enough for them to pass through.

The Novitcius mages below scrambled, frantically casting cheap spells in a desperate attempt to defend their base.

Lightning bolts, fireballs, and ice shards hurled toward the Armatus suits.

"Futile!" Rhok roared, his blade flashing through the air.

In a split second, he cut a male mage in half, leaving only a bloody mess in his wake.

Daniel was quick to follow suit, firing plasma shots at the clusters of spellcasters positioned in the towers. Each time, their arcane barriers shimmered, intercepting his shots. But the mages couldn't protect themselves for long.

Daniel knew their barriers could block his plasma shots, but they stood no chance against the devastating force of an ionised blade. He baited the mages, sending one Armatus in the wrong direction to draw their attention before another swooped in from the flank.

The spellcasters were decimated in a single, sweeping motion.

Blood and gore splattered across the corridor. One female mage, who had narrowly avoided the blade, screamed in terror as she watched her comrades disintegrate. Her cloak was stained with blood and her peer's entrails. Before she could even think of fleeing, a plasma shot turned her to dust.

"Noobs," Daniel mocked, a devious smirk playing on his lips as he focused on the west towers.

With a concentrated barrage of missiles and plasma shots, the tower collapsed, sending a dark storm of dust and debris into the air.

The ground mages, seeing their west tower destroyed and another surrounded by Rhok's Armatus suits, understood the hopelessness of their situation.

Some ran in fear; others dropped their arcane staffs and swords in defeat. Blood stained their clothes, and tears streamed down their faces.

These Novitcius mages had thought they were simply stationed here for a peaceful, rural life away from the city.

But the war had come knocking at their door, and with it, death soon followed. They did not know that the Armatus knights had received no orders to take prisoners.

The slaughter continued.

The mages begged for their lives, but their pleas fell on deaf ears.

One by one, they were killed in cold blood, their screams echoing through the now-silent garrison.

***

Rhok and Daniel pressed forward, their Armatus suits soaring through the sky and cutting a path of destruction across Germund's territory. The once-strong garrisons now lay in ruins, reduced to piles of rubble.

Ten strongholds had already fallen to their relentless advance.

As they soared past a towering structure that resembled a church, a tranquil sight caught Rhok's sharp eyes.

Below, amidst the chaos, knelt an innocent figure, her serene presence a stark contrast to the destruction unfolding around her.

She was cloaked in a nun's robe, her posture one of deep reverence as she prayed.

The contrast of the serene scene with the violence of their task sparked something inside Rhok. He could not explain it, but her peacefulness seemed out of place in the world he was creating.

Arousal, primal and unexpected, flickered within him.

Before he could fully process the thought, a priest burst from the building, his hands already weaving intricate patterns in the air.

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A guttural chant, "Cryomax!", ripped from his throat. The air before him frosted over, coalescing into a jagged spear of ice that shot toward Rhok's Armatus.

It shattered against the composite plating with a sharp crack, the magical frost dissipating harmlessly.

A low growl rumbled in Rhok's throat.

The futile gesture was an insult, and his grip on the controls tightened.

"Silver... Sentry protocol," Rhok muttered, his voice cold and detached. His hand moved almost instinctively.

With a flick of his finger, the Armatus suit swatted the priest, whose body crumpled into a bloody mess. Through the Armatus's feed, Rhok watched the gore, unfazed.

"Yes, sir," Daniel replied reluctantly, his voice laced with discomfort, though he remained obedient. As a Silver knight, the hierarchy was absolute.

For a brief moment, Rhok hesitated. He descended slowly toward the nun, shedding his massive armour. A flicker of primal desire danced in his mind, his lips curling as he licked them in anticipation.

The mission demanded ruthlessness, yet the nun's untouched innocence was a temptation he couldn't ignore.

Rhok, now in his personal suit, stood just above the woman, uncertain of his next move. The nun's eyes met his, pure fear filling her gaze.

There was no fight in her, no desire for power or violence. She was like a lamb.

A devious smile spread across his face. The woman screamed, her voice piercing the air as she stared in horror at the mechanical lift of the armour pad on his groin.

"May the Astral Empress bless you, Tony!" Rhok exclaimed with a wide grin, his voice booming with gratitude for the engineer who had designed the detachable armour pad, all while soaking in the twisted thrill of the moment.

***

The capital city…

At the heart of Germund, the great arcane dome glittered as sunlight shone through its semi-translucent hemisphere. Two layers of arcane barriers served as the ultimate protection for the city. In the centre of the dome stood a tall, black tower crowned with a large arcanite crystal that shone like a jewel.

Beside it was a sprawling castle, a collection of interconnected buildings where the Cat-Wildren King of Germund resided: Mathias III, Magus Primarch of Germund.

The town was a mix of old and new.

Narrow cobblestone streets wound past houses with steep roofs and flower-filled windows, giving it a medieval feel, yet the streets bustled with cars and buses.

The smell of fresh bread floated from local bakeries, and people sat outside at cafes. In the distance, a tall church towered above the town, its historic charm amplified by ancient stone walls and bridges.

Beneath the black tower, a group of dubious individuals in dark brown cloaks cradled a large, spherical device. Substantial bribery and lobbying had allowed them to transport it with little effort. Once their path was clear, the device was laid in the centre of the first floor, where arcane energy was being channelled to the arcanite harnesser above. One of the cloaked men gave a prompting nod to his colleagues before pressing a button on the console.

Its glassy surface wobbled and throbbed as it charged.

The ground began to shake violently.

The cloaked figures dashed out of the room in a panic. Then, the spherical disruptor erupted into an electrical storm, shooting lightning in all directions.

From her private chamber inside one of the thousands of hangar cruisers, a stern woman, poised and graceful in her fifties, stood still. Her hair was grey, and her dark eyes focused intensely on the arcane hemisphere below.

She was clad in platinum knight armour, her chest piece gleaming. Behind her stood six 12-metre Armatus mobile suits, one gold & five silver, gleaming and battle-ready.

Queen Charlotte stared down at the barrier with contempt. As the disruptor set off by her rebels exploded beneath the tower, the great dome began to crumble and dissipate.

Her lips creased into a smirk. Her rebels had completed their mission.

The only practical defence against her siege no longer existed.

With the help of a small propulsion device embedded in her personal armour, she leapt into her gold Armatus. The torso's hatches swung closed as she settled comfortably into her seat.

The comm crackled to life as she opened the HUD screen. "Let's rain like hail," she ordered, her voice full of will and resolve.

12,754 knights and 380,982 mobile suits dropped from the sky, casting a horrifying shadow over the heart of Germund.

The city was ravaged.

Missiles and bombs targeted its infrastructure, roads, bridges, and defensive towers. These were the primary objectives. Each division of Armatus methodically and strategically assaulted every garrison, securing the front of oppression.

Meanwhile, Queen Charlotte led more than half of her knights to storm the main castle and eliminate Mathias III.

Lunarius and Stellius mages concentrated their assaults, alternating between casting arcane barriers and firing powerful, mesmerising spells.

Meteors materialised from the sky, crashing into the knights and incinerating their armoured suits to ash.

As the battle drew closer to the king's castle, the intensity and firepower of the two sides became evenly matched.

Both forces suffered heavy casualties. With their numbers dwindling, Queen Charlotte charged forward in her gold suit. With two powerful swings, she cut through six Lunarius mages, granting them a quick death.

Only one managed to conjure a fortified magnetic field in time, deflecting the blade.

A hundred metres away, another Lunarius mage launched a divine, flaming sword the size of a house through one of Queen Charlotte's Armatus suits.

"Ugh! Damn insects!" she screamed in exasperation as her Armatus was reduced to red metal scrap.

"Cover me!" she barked to her vanguard, who swiftly flanked to protect her.

She motioned for all five of her remaining Armatus suits to concentrate their fire, draining the Lunarius mage's mana until he melted into a boiling pile.

***

In the castle of the Magnus Primarch of Germund, a distant rumble, followed by a deafening boom, shattered the stillness of the hall.

Mathias, a bald Cat-Wildren, stirred from his deep slumber amidst a tangle of naked escorts of various races — humans, Wildrens, and elves.

Groggy and disoriented, his dark feline eyes blinked open as he jerked into a sitting position.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if the noise was merely part of a dream.

Mathias was in his mid-sixties, long past his prime, yet famed for his insatiable appetite. The night before, the king had indulged himself with seven women. Now, they lay sprawled across the massive royal bed, their even breathing a testament to their exhaustion.

Morning light filtered through the grand windows, illuminating the lavish furnishings. His scalp, bare of hair, shone like polished glass, catching the sunlight with an almost comical intensity.

Yawning, Mathias leaned over to plant a soft kiss on the collarbone of one of the women, just below her Lustbrand Circlet — a sinister magical device that ensured sensual compliance through intoxicating pain. Her striking blue eyes fluttered open briefly, and she returned a hesitant kiss to his cheek.

Before Mathias could savour the moment, another violent tremor rocked the room.

A thunderous explosion sent him and his escorts tumbling from the bed as the chamber's walls collapsed inward with a roar.

Debris, bricks, and dust rained down in chaotic disarray.

A gaping hole, easily ten metres wide, appeared where the wall had once been, flooding the room with blinding daylight.

"What the—?!" Mathias exclaimed, his jaw slack with disbelief.

Around him, the naked escorts screamed in terror, huddling together against the far corner.

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